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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878519">Changes Are Taking the Pace I'm Going Through</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeTheRee/pseuds/VeeTheRee'>VeeTheRee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cas also likes reading Good Omens, Cas like ABBA, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Clueless Castiel, Clueless Dean, Dean finds him adorable, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, POV Dean, Sam is fed up but in a subtle way, but they're adorable, eventual human Cas, you know the drill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:34:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeTheRee/pseuds/VeeTheRee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean grow closer until the line between friends and more than friends is indistinguishable.<br/>Or, 3 times Cas and Dean were platonic, 2 times they weren't, and 1 when Sam lost his shit.<br/>These are five snippets of how Destiel came to be~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's the Fluffy Destiel That Keeps Us Going [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Changes Are Taking the Pace I'm Going Through</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMishaHere/gifts">JustMishaHere</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by a tumblr post of @justmishahere a.k.a. StanleyIsMyQueen that said:</p><p>i keep seeing destiel fanfics where their first kiss is, like, the biggest deal of everything with a big build-up of feelings and emotions and what not</p><p>but consider:</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>absolutely nothing changing whatsoever, and the two of them just continuously growing closer and closer and then one day dean goes out on a hunt and gives cas the most delicate of pecks on his lips and it just happens so naturally that neither realize until, like, three minutes later and then they just decide “welp i guess we’re a couple now”</strong></p><p> </p><p>And well.... this happened? I hope it's readable! This is my first destiel snippet of sorts, so yeah! It kinda took on a life of its own. Enjoy!<br/>Also I didn't beta this, I wrote all this in the span of like, 10 hours with pauses 'cause school, so if you find any typo or mistake, feel free to tell me!<br/>Work title is taken from David Bowie's song 'Changes' from the album Hunky Dory<br/>//also I forgot to add this, but here's my tumblr if you wanna throw a prompt my way;) <a href="https://majesticnerdynerd.tumblr.com/">majesticnerdynerd</a>//</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Changes were oftentimes small, imperceptible, barely registered until either vocally pointed out or when epiphany smacked people’s heads with a rolled newspaper on their head. In the case of Cas and Dean, unfortunately, neither could be successful for a number of reasons. One, their lives were understandably busy and the family feud bullshit that went on between Heaven and Hell simply invaded their extracurricular activities on top of their regular hunts as a poor side effect. Two, despite having functioning eyes, both men were inexplicably blind to the silent, simmering attraction that bound them together. And three, both Cas and Dean were also indescribably dumb as a result, but don’t tell them or they’d get butthurt. </p><p>However, sometimes it seemed as though even their molecules, down to the core, knew that they were meant for each other. Take their time off, for example, like now. </p><p>Dean parked the Impala in front of their motel room, turned off the radio and grabbed the paper bag full of donuts and painkillers -- Sam woke up to a headache. Keys bustling in the door, he kicked the cheap wood to get in and used the ball of his foot to kick it closed again. </p><p>Sam winced at the sudden, sharp sound, his head and bleary eyes squinting at his brother from where he lay in his bed. Dean tossed him the painkillers and walked to the kitchen corner where Cas was having a staring contest with a toaster. </p><p>“You good, buddy?” Dean asked him, mouth full. He’d taken out a donut the moment he got out of the car. </p><p>“Of course,” Cas replied, glaring at the toaster. Dean noticed it was unplugged and as such, the bread inside didn’t get crispy. It just sat there, sad and stale. “This is a very peculiar invention.”</p><p>“Yeah? Why?”</p><p>“No matter how much I tell it to, it doesn’t work. I think it’s broken. This motel is a scam.”</p><p>Dean tossed the bag of donuts Cas’ way, but the angel paid it no attention, instead continuing to scrutinize the useless piece of technology in the room. Sighing, Dean followed the cable trail and plugged the toaster in. Something in the electronic clicked and a red light came on, signalling that the toaster has been turned on and working. </p><p>“It needs power to work, Cas,” Dean told him, collapsing into a chair opposite of him. He tore the paper bag, reaching for a chocolate donut. Delicious. “Sam, you want some?”</p><p>“No. Let me die,” his brother husked from under the covers. </p><p>“You have a cold, drama queen, not black death.”</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>Dean’s eyebrows raised and his head dipped down in a nod. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today. Take the pills, idiot.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Then sleep some more. Can we eat the donuts or do you want me to save you some?”</p><p>“I literally don’t care right now.”</p><p>“Bitch.”</p><p>“Jerk.” Sam turned his back to them, burrowing in the thin duvet of their motel room. </p><p>When Dean turned, grabbing his third donut of the day, Cas’ gaze was still transfixed on the toaster, his head tilted to the side, eyes squinting and lips pouting contemplatively. Dean watched him, chewing on the sweet dough and strawberry flavour mixing on his tongue. It was Cas’ sky blue eyes that pinned Dean to the spot each time they looked at one another that stole his collective brain cell whenever they talked. </p><p>“How exactly does a toaster function?” Cas asked, making Dean look up from his donut (hazelnut). </p><p>“Electricity makes bread get toasty,” Dean mouthed lamely, spitting out wet crumbs Cas didn’t mind. </p><p>“That’s… very educational.”</p><p>“Do I look like Tesla to you?”</p><p>“No, you look like your usual self, Dean. You’re not a shapeshifter.”</p><p>Dean coughed into his fist and used a napkin to wipe his fingers. “I should hope so. I don’t know how a toaster works, I never tinkered with it.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because I had no reason to.”</p><p>Dean stood up to throw away the crumpled paper in a trashcan by the door. Halfway there, a high pitched scream and a pop of the toaster, he whirled around on the balls of his feet, Sam jerking up on the bed, they both reached for the nearest weapon to see what the fuck was attacking. Cas fell off his chair, two toasts lying next to him. Dean lowered his gun. </p><p>“Cas what the fuck?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell me the bread was homicidal!” Cas said, scrambling back on his feet. He stared at the bread on the floor, arms limp by his sides. He looked utterly defeated: a courtesy of toasts. “I… don’t know what to say. Why would a human invent a personal heart attack?”</p><p>Sam sighed and plopped on his back, groaning and sniffing. Dean bit his tongue to stop himself from smirking. Jesus Christ, this was hilarious. An angel of the Lord getting scared by a toaster. One look at Cas broke Dean, and he succumbed to a fit of giggles. Cas stared in confusion, helpless as what to do about the toasts underneath him. </p><p>“Dean, shut up!” Sam groaned and Dean put an arm around Cas’ shoulders, dragging him towards the door and out. </p><p>“Come on, Mr Weasley,” Dean told him, still in stitches. Cas pursed his lips and let himself be manhandled outside of the motel room. “Let’s give Sam a moment without toasts assaulting you.”</p><p>“Who’s Mr Weasley?” Cas asked, clueless. Dean stopped in his tracks. </p><p>“Dude. Harry Potter tell you anything?”</p><p>“Is he selling pots and vases?”</p><p>Dean blinked. Oh, he was serious. “Are you kidding? You’ve never seen the movies?”</p><p>It was Cas’ turn to blink before resuming a walk out into the parking lot. “My knowledge of humanity is a bit rusty. I didn’t know they were making documentaries about potters. Last time they were this famous was in Greece.”</p><p>“Cas, I’m not talking about Greek pottery. Or any pottery.” Dean unlocked the Impala and they settled inside. “You know what, we’re buying those movies and we’ll have a marathon. I bet you’ll be curious about the rubber duck too once you see the Chamber of Secrets.”</p><p>Dean looked at Cas who seemed more and more lost with every word he heard Dean say. An adorable wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. Oh, those angels. Dean drove onto the road. “I bet you’re a Hufflepuff.”</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>A few weeks later, Team Free Will stood outside an animal shelter that took care of horses too. A case came up and their research showed that a rogue kelpie terrorised the neighbourhood. They drove here in hopes of learning more about equines and… possibly find a reason as to why it started attacking in the first place. </p><p>Cas wore his usual trench coat, white shirt, and black pants to go with it whilst Sam and Dean were confined to full monkey suits, much to Dean’s dismay. He checked himself in the side-view mirror, tugging at his tie and smoothing out his hair <em>just so</em>. Sam was already top-notch, pocketing his FBI badge and evaluating their surroundings. Cas stood next to Dean, who noticed that his tie was loose and hair ruffled and spiky. So much for being credible agents. </p><p>“Come here, dork,” Dean positioned him so that he could button up his shirt to the topmost button. He made sure his tie fit. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Cas asked, not moving an inch. </p><p>“FBI agents don’t look like they’ve been through a hurricane.” He smoothed out some creases on Cas’ trench coat. “Don’t give me that look, it’s a figure of speech.”</p><p>Cas hugged and let Dean run his fingers through his black hair to make it look more presentable. Dean’s heart skipped a beat when Cas leaned into the touch. Not visibly, but it was there. Just a nudge. His hair was surprisingly soft, as much as he didn’t pay his vessel much attention sometimes. </p><p>“There,” Dean patted him when he was satisfied with his handiwork. “Now you look like an angel. I mean agent. You’re both, but let’s keep it professional.”</p><p>“Okay, Dean.”</p><p>Cas squared his shoulders and walked towards the building. Muffled barks and meows and distant neighs reached their ears. Sam was watching Dean, an eyebrow raised in a curious fashion. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Sam shrugged, but a smile played on his lips. </p><p>*</p><p>Later that night Sam and Dean were running through the woods, water splashing everywhere, their feet and socks wet to the bone. Fucking kelpies. Fucking hunts in the dark after stupid fucking sea-lake-whatever horses. </p><p>Cas disappeared three minutes ago, darting to the left instead of the right and Dean had no space to maneuver to go after him. Plus, Sam was with him and the kelpie was right at their asses, so they had to run. </p><p>Fuck bogs. When they were kids, Bobby once told them about bog witches -- and Dean held Sam’s hand for days after. Running through one in the dark evoked some of those past fears, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. No creepy villainous laugh reached them, thankfully -- only the sound of splashing water somewhere behind them and gravely neighs that wrecked Sam and Dean’s nerves. </p><p>“I hate horses,” Dean rasped, chest heaving. </p><p>“Uh-huh,” Sam hummed, dragging him to the right as the kelpie dashed by, raising a wave of water and mud. “Can you reload?”</p><p>“Bit busy!” They were cold, tired, and Dean’s fingers were freezing and numb. A thump in their back tumbled them over, each brother getting a mouthful of moss and mud. Dean psat it out, pissed off at the world and his life. “Son of a --”</p><p>“Dean!”</p><p>The kelpie dug its hooves between the brothers, dividing them. Dean’s gun and silver bullet flew out of his grasp, buried under layers of dirt and out of his reach. Sam rolled away, taking out his silver knife. Silver bullet was the way to go, but if needs must… The kelpie tried to stomp on Dean in the meantime. Fucking amazing, all his clothes can be thrown in the trash if he walks out of this alive. </p><p>Dean tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and the cursed horse, but that bitch was <em>fast</em>. Sam shouted, distracting the kelpie momentarily as Dean backed away, trying to locate the gun. One silver bullet piercing through that jello skin and it’s over. His hand caught on something solid and cold -- the gun. He cursed under his breath, doing his best to reload while Sam used the trees to his advantage to avoid getting bitten or drowned by the horse. </p><p>“Fuck my life!” Dean said, frustrated with himself and how clumsy the cold weather had made him. His teeth chattered, but the sudden <em>bang </em>and screech of the kelpie startled him into full attention. </p><p>On the side, Cas stood holding a gun of his own they gave him (<em>just in case</em>, Dean told him, since his grace was running out), pointing at the collapsing body of the water spirit. Heave breaths penetrated the moist air, Sam leaning against a tree for support. </p><p>“About damn time,” Dean said, grimacing at the jelly-like sight before them. The kelpie dissolved almost completely into a disgusting incoherent mass of shit. “What took you so long?”</p><p>“I thought a surprise was in order,” Cas replied easily, holstering the gun after clicking the safety on. He walked over to Dean to help him up. Dean winced, his leg throbbing in dull pain -- he got cut. Cas, of course, noticed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He put an arm around Dean’s waist and shouldered most of his weight so as to avoid straining the injured leg further. </p><p>“We wouldn’t mind if you came sooner, you know,” Dean hissed, blushing at their closeness. Thank fuck the night covered it. Why was he blushing in the first place?</p><p>“He means to say thank you, Cas,” Sam interrupted politely but loud enough to shush his inept injured brother, “for shooting that kelpie.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Cas said, and together they found a trail that led them out of the godforsaken woods. </p><p>Dean’s leg injury wasn’t serious, but Cas’ grace couldn’t heal it once they got to the car. Sam would be driving, he’s in no shape to sit behind the wheel. While Sam packed their gear in the trunk, Cas crouched in front of Dean where he sat in the back of the Impala. Cas scowled at Dean’s leg and the dried blood there, then at his hand. </p><p>“Hey,” Dean patted him, exhaustion slowly taking over him. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. I know what you’re thinking.”</p><p>“No you don’t, you’re not psychic,” Cas replied easily. “And Sam agrees, he says you’re blinder than a paralyzed bat, though I don’t see how that could work since the bat would die soon after from not being able to feed.”</p><p>Too tired to make sense of whatever Cas was talking about, Dean sighed and scooted further from the door to make more space available. He lifted both eyebrows at Cas. “Come sit here, idiot.”</p><p>Cas obliged him, shutting the door behind him and Sam closed the trunk and soon they were on their way to their motel room. Sleep clawed at Deans consciousness, dragging him under steadily as the engine revved on, tires monotonously gliding on the road. Unable to sit straight, Dean slumped in his seat, observing Sam’s similarly tired expression in the rearview mirror. Cas’ profile was a dark silhouette against the moonlight streaming in from the outside. And just like that, Dean rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder and succumbed to sleep.</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>The sun scorched anything exposed to it, melting ice cream and plastic and human skin -- at least it felt like it. Hot as balls, this summer. The only positive thing was that Sam and Dean fetched enough ice to cool beer and soda in at their motel room. There was no case this time, the three of them just lazed around like slobs because why the fuck not. They deserved a vacation. Sam frequented the motel pool for hours on end doing laps whilst Dean floated on his back, sunglasses on and arms pillowing his head. Cas either sat in the shade or sat at the edge of the pool in shorts and a hawaian shirt Sam had purchased with him the other day. As his grace depleted and he became more human by the day, Cas started to feel the temperature changes too like the rest of them mortals. And Dean spent a lot of their vacation time looking (or rather, staring) at Cas and how adorable he looked when he was buried in a book or a magazine he’d found lying about. </p><p>“You’re staring again,” Sam said, appearing next to him. Dean jerked, startled by how he sneaked up on him. </p><p>“Jesus Christ, Sammy.” Dean splashed him with water. Sam retaliated. “I’m not staring. Just keepin’ an eye on him.”</p><p>“What for? He can take care of himself. It’s not like he’s a puppy to wander off and get kidnapped.”</p><p>“Yeah, but what if he sees a guinea pig and runs after it? You know how he got with bees the other day.”</p><p>Sam considered it. “Okay, point taken. But you’re still pretty obvious. And blind.”</p><p>“Pfft, bite me, Sam,” Dean splashed him in the face again. He glanced at Cas who was absorbed in his current book: Good Omens by Neil Gaiman. He picked it up on a case somewhere, and no one questioned it. </p><p>Cas looked up and Sam waved at him; Cas waved back, smiling. Dean loved that smile and how it crinkled the corners of his eyes. The radio playing in the background changed stations and suddenly ABBA sounded throughout the whole pool for its all thirteen members to hear. </p><p>“ABBA? Seriously?” Sam quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t complain about the choice of music. </p><p>“I like it,” Cas said from behind them. Dean flinched and dipped under the surface before reemerging. How could he be so sneaky? <em>Honey, Honey</em> started playing. Cas stayed at the edge of the pool, only ever dipping his legs inside. Dean swam closer to him, Sam too. “How’s it called again?”</p><p>“It’s a Swedish musical group from the seventies,” Sam told him. “ABBA. Their song Waterloo won at Eurovision in 1975 I think.”</p><p>“Dude, how come you know trivia about ABBA?” Dean asked, pushing up from the pool and sitting besides Cas, careful not to destroy his book. </p><p>
  <em>So stay on the ground girl, you better not get too high</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I'm gonna stick to you boy, you'll never get rid of me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's no other place in this world where I rather would be</em>
</p><p>Sam shrugged. “I watched Jeopardy with Bobby once, they mentioned it.”</p><p>“Do you like their music? Either of you?” Cas inquired, looking from one brother to the other. </p><p>“I don’t mind it,” Sam said, indifferent. </p><p>Cas and Sam then turned to Dean. “What? It’s not my cup of coffee exactly but as Sam said, it’s alright.”</p><p>“I see,” Cas nodded. He squinted at the radio. The song ended. “Could we get a cassette for the Impala?”</p><p>“You like ABBA after listening to one song?”</p><p>“Yeah, it has a nice feeling to it. I find it very pleasant.”</p><p>Dean hummed, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Curious, but cute. Cas shifted and sat closer to Dean so that their thighs were pressed into each other. Sam looked smug for whatever reason. “I think I’ll go change. Want a beer?”</p><p>“Later,” Dean said, letting the hot sun dry him. Sam flicked him in the ear as he passed by, so he tried to trip him, unsuccessfully. “Asshole. How do you enjoy the pool, Cas?”</p><p>“It’s relaxing. Subpar, but nice and adequate to hunters, I suppose.”</p><p>A grin spread across Dean’s face at that. His breath caught when Cas looked at, humour in his sky blue eyes. They were even more prominent in the bright summer light. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. How’s that book of yours?”</p><p>Cas tilted his head as if thinking ‘What book?’ but then remembered the print sitting in his lap. “Oh, Good Omens. Exceptional, I must say. It has a different take on the apocalypse, but that’s what makes it unique and exquisite.”</p><p>“Can I have a look?” Cas handed Dean the book. He turned the page where Cas’ bookmark was. He saw him reading it yesterday, but… huh, the number on the page didn’t change at all. Dean registered out of the corner of his eye that Cas was watching him. He chanced a sneak peek at their angel, and saw that, well, Cas was rather looking Dean head to toe. He felt blood rush up his cheeks. Dean cleared his throat and closed the book, giving it back to Cas. “Mind if I borrow it sometime?”</p><p>“You’re free to take it whenever,” Cas said sincerely.</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>It took some time, but Dean managed to sniff out an ABBA cassette. He meant to give it to Cas as a gift, because why the fuck not, he had said he liked their songs. Cas had at some point described their music as tragically romantic, after which he and Sam got into a debate about the general romanticism of music as Dean drove them to California to a wendigo case. That was interesting. </p><p>Right now, they were staying at another motel. Dean was tired of everything. He wanted a permanent home where he could walk around in nothing but his boxers all day. Hunting wasn’t how he wanted his life to continue on. Not forever. But as long as he was with Cas and Sam, he supposed that he was at home, semi. The most important thing was that they were safe. That was enough for now. </p><p>Sam went out fifteen minutes ago to research names of missing persons in the area. This case didn’t seem that suspicious, but they always took darker turns <em>fast</em>. Maybe he can steal a couple hours before Sam comes back… But nope. Cas bustled in, trench coat whirling behind him like a Disney villain’s. </p><p>“Dean, have you seen my book?” </p><p>“Good Omens?” Cas nodded, not bothering to wait for a proper answer and aiming it for Dean’s bag that lay at his feet. He started combing through it, taking out Dean’s clothes and things, carefully putting them out and arranging them on his bed until he found his prize. “Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman speak to you, huh?”</p><p>“Very much so,” Cas conceded, listing through the paperback. Dean got up and stretched, his vertebrae popping. “Dean?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“What is this…?” Cas let out a gasp. Oh shit. He found the cassette. Dean had planned to give it to him on a more special occasion, whatever it may have been, but alas. Fuck, way to go, Winchester. “You got us ABBA?”</p><p>Dean scratched the nape of his neck. He stood up. “Uhm…. I got it for you. Sam has his phone, I got my music. Thought it was about time for you to have something too.”</p><p>The hug took him by surprise, a tsunami of gratefulness and happiness crashing into him. Cas’ grip on him was pinning him to the place, and Dean’s arms wound around the man on instinct, pulling him closer. Cas, apparently, took it as a hint to squeeze harder. </p><p>“Cas, buddy,” Dean wheezed, “a bit tight, this.”</p><p>“Oh. Should I let go?” his angel asked, definitely not letting go. Dean giggled. </p><p>“Nah, it’s okay.”</p><p>“Thank you. I appreciate it.”</p><p>Cas’ hair was soft, just as the last time he cradled his fingers through the black sea of it, and even softer against Dean’s cheek when he rested it atop Cas’ head. “You’re welcome.” </p><p>They swayed in one place like that for a few minutes, letting time go by, and Dean’s consciousness slipped from underneath him, eyes closing on their own. He could stay like this forever, enveloped by mutual peace and affection. The two of them snapped out of their bliss only when Dean yawned. </p><p>“You should have a nap,” Cas said, holding him by the elbows. Dean rolled his eyes. </p><p>“I was about to make coffee, thanks.”</p><p>“You always say naps help humans,” Cas reminded him. “Plus, you look like shit, as Sam would say.”</p><p>“Wow, you know how to flatter a guy,” Dean shook his head, but plopped down on the bed anyway. If Cas pointed it out so bluntly, then he was probably right. “Fine. I’m lying down. Happy?”</p><p>Cas did indeed seem very happy that Dean listened instead of bickering further. He sat down on the edge of the bed and set the ABBA cassette on the bedside table with utmost care. Maybe one day they can make a mixtape together. Led Zep and ABBA for all Dean cared. Just for the two of them. </p><p>Dean budged up and made space for Cas to lie in. He lay on his side while Cas settled on his stomach, Good Omens open before him. Concentration furrowed his brows as he slowly lost himself in the fictional world of Heaven and Hell, remixed by two British Men with a snarky sense of humour. This became their routine nowadays, sort of. Not sharing a bed necessarily, but sharing close space.</p><p>Eventually, Dean drifted off, lyrics of <em>Waterloo</em> resonating in his mind (he listened to it in the car once he was alone to make sure it was in a good state). </p><p>
  <em>Waterloo</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Couldn’t escape if I wanted to</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Waterloo</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Knowing my fate is to be with you</em>
</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>A new case in Wisconsin. Early spring, but ghosts never fuck off. The three of them were about to go question a witness of the appearance of an angry poltergeist. This time it was Dean who was fumbling with his tie in the reflection of his car window while Sam and Cas were ready to go. </p><p>“Fuck this shit,” he swore, exhaling sharply. </p><p>“Dean, here,” Cas said, standing between the Impala and him. He’d learned how to tie a tie in the last year, gaining skills that humans usually possessed. Cas’ movements and tugs and loops were quick and efficient. He brushed off dust from the black suit, straightened the lapels of Dean’s white shirt. As a last touch, Cas ran both his hands through Dean’s hair and arranged it <em>just so</em>. “There. That’s perfect.”</p><p>They smiled at each other, green gaze meeting blue, and a spark lightened up between them. Dean leaned in and Cas tipped his head up, their lips connecting tenderly, just a peck. “Thanks, angel. Let’s go.”</p><p>They nodded, their fake personas settling in. Only Sam stood like a fool on the sidewalk, eyes wide as saucers, jaw dropped. He looked from Dean to Cas and back, stuttering. </p><p>“Seen our ghost, Sammy?” Dean joked, making his way towards the house at the end of the lane. Cas and Sam followed, quiet. Huh. This was nice, kissing Cas. The realisation dawned on Dean when he paced up the stairs on the porch of their house. “Oh. Cas?”</p><p>“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked sweetly, dreamily gazing at him. Sam stayed on the sidewalk. </p><p>“Did we just kiss?”</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><p>Dean nodded, pouting thoughtfully. “Alright… I suppose that makes us official?”</p><p>“I’d like it to,” Cas agreed, ringing the bell, checking if he had his badge with him. </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>They turned to the front door and waited. Sam hyperventilated.  </p><p>“Excuse me?” he bit out, clutching at his heart. “That’s all?”</p><p>“What, did you expect me to blast <em>Waterloo </em>with a stereo outside his window at night?” Dean frowned. </p><p>Sam facepalmed. “You two. Go ahead. I need to make a few calls.”</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“I lost a bet to Bobby because of you! I’m happy for you two dumbasses, but honestly! Infuriatingly adorable and yet…!”</p><p>Sam stormed back to the Impala, leaving a confused Dean and a very happy angel at the doorstep of a poltergeist witness. </p><p>“Did you know about the bet?” Dean inquired, hearing footsteps approaching the front door. Cas shook his head. </p><p>“No. Does it matter?”</p><p>“Nah, buddy. Let’s roll.”</p><p>The smile Cas gave him warmed his heart to the core. </p>
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